


Sweet Exothermy

by foxinschlox



Series: MikoTotsu Week 2014 [6]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blindfolds, Food Kink, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxinschlox/pseuds/foxinschlox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for MikoTotsu Week. 12/15 : Intimate. [ Totsuka plays with icing... ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Exothermy

Mikoto likes to think he's pretty low maintenance, no-frills. Especially in bed.  
For example, an afternoon nap requires 3 ingredients only : peace and quiet and to be left the hell alone.

These are rare commodities.  
The bed already shows squirming, fidgeting signs of life that can't even stay still at the sound of Mikoto's footsteps. His expression flatlines. Incredible, what could it be...

The creature responsible for the nest of covers stretches out just so under the warm touch of daylight from the blinds. This one is far too active to sleep during the day anyway.  
He rolls onto his belly from his back, and there's nothing like those bright, elegant eyes to pull in the chain around the beast's neck.

“Senn-pai~”

“What?” the Red King's face screws up at the unnatural sound, “don't call me that.”  
Looming over the side of the bed, he flicks his vassal on the forehead hard enough to leave a little red mark. Merciless. 

Merciless to defenseless in record time, once he gets a good eyefull below Totsuka's shoulders.  
Obviously some thought had gone into presentation of the afternoon main course laid out before him :

Threadbare blue wool drapes down in wrinkles of excess fabric over Totsuka's frame, buttoned just enough to cover mid-chest down to delicately shaped, pale thighs. A few of them had popped off long ago and left revealing spaces in between. The rest are barely clinging.  
With a tempting downward arch of his back it threatens to fall from one shoulder, from the gentle curve of his lower body.  
Six years later and the cardigan is still too big on him. Someone really needs to start feeding this guy.  
The red striped tie from Mikoto's old high school uniform dangles loose down from his neck. It draws the eye down the length of him, between his legs once he quits his catlike stretches and sits up. 

“That sort of mood, hm,” Totsuka rubs at his abused forehead,  
“Someone must be ready for a nap.”

Grunt.

“Here. Let me help.”  
He tugs at the black jacket's sleeve until King is sufficiently pestered into slipping it off. 

Mikoto weighs his options.  
The brat's eyes are lit like fireworks advertising a good time; no chance of catching a rest here.  
There's still time to keep up the mean streak and retreat for the couch.

But then  
there are thighs.  
They're looking even more appetizing than usual. Most of Totsuka is soft skin and bone unless you know how to spread him just right. Those tempting spots just inside his legs are the best kept secret within the Red King's domain. On full display and begging to be squeezed, bitten, dripping warm...

That's not all that's trying to seduce him; his sharp sense of smell catches on a scent so thick, rich in the air like vanilla or whatever. Catches and won't let go. No mistake, Totsuka has something horrifically sweet hiding under this setup.  
Where's that coming from?

It doesn't take much to push Mikoto into sensory overload, so the lion tamer takes easy advantage. He touches and asks King's hips closer. For his knees to meet the edge of the bed so Totsuka can press lips against his navel. Through fabric even they're already too wet.  
Mikoto's face heats as quick as the rest of him. It doesn't show yet but Totsuka can sense that steep spike in body temperature, and his own pulse buck into a faster pace.

“Your sweater's been keeping me so warm and safe. Can I wear it to class?”  
Totsuka rubs against him, feathery voice creating the same effect,  
“I need to have your scent with me.”

There's nothing sensual in the way his hands push up Mikoto's shirt too fast. They just do, as if only curious to know what else is hidden there. Sleeve cuffs that are a little too long cover them so the wool tickles bare skin.  
The cardigan rides up higher when he moves to fondle over Mikoto's chest up to his shoulders and hints he's wearing nothing underneath.

“ 'cause the older guys won't bother me in this. They'll know who I belong to.”

This sudden fascination with roleplaying semi-uncomfortable situations is almost enough to put the Red King off. Uncomfortable as in getting him into the habit of imagining a much younger Totsuka on his knees...

“Where'd you even find that thing?” Mikoto's growl catches in his throat.

It's an obvious cue where the weak spot is.  
Totsuka brushes a cheek back along the faint little trail of hair leading down, blowing softly, teasing at it with his breath. 

“It's a piece of you. Even if you don't think it's valuable..”  
Totsuka dabs tiny worshiping kisses to bare skin this time, follows the natural definition of muscle down King's v-line. It's difficult to hold back tracing there with tongue. He keeps that urge tucked away for later.

“...I'll save every last piece”

Mikoto half-rolls his eyes. With all the filming Totsuka does you'd think he could come up with a better script.  
But the criticism gets lost the lower the brat's mouth travels – slow enough for his taste, more adult in the way he drags his lips just on the verge of using tongue. The thick smell in the air still clouds his judgement; drops napping lower down the list of priorities.

“You're too suspicious,” says King, slow, petting through silky light brown hair. Ruffling the fringe, rubbing the wrong way, over and over until his vassal's sighing, whining at every touch. With one cheek cupped, plumped up in King's palm Totsuka's smile is irresistable when he pulls back.

By then he's got Mikoto well trained enough to prowl into bed after him.

Totsuka presses King back into the heap of pillows – sliding palms up to the wide, powerful shoulders he gets all to himself. Back until he feels the tense energy within Mikoto release, before it practically begins to purr for him.  
It's the kind of sound that fire makes if you listen very close : exothermic reaction.

But once they're eye to eye Totsuka's gaze skirts away in submission.  
He curves an intended kiss so it meets his neck.  
This only fires Mikoto up, since his lap is full and he's starting to want his mouth full of tongue and it's criminal that's not happening yet. Hot aural energy flares again at the source of his frustration.  
It's exactly what Totsuka wants to feel- and tame to his will like letting tendrils of King's flame touch and curl all around him.

“Hey,” there's bite in Mikoto's tone when he forces eye contact, “D'nt play with me.”

“But. I'd like to-” Totsuka tries to tuck his chin and whimpers,  
“I'd like to decide how I play with you this time.”

It flips the right switch to the right power setting, so King's just on the edge of coming alight for him but not quite on fire; allows him to pop the button on the front of Mikoto's jeans without interference.  
They're tight and very warm and Totsuka takes his time feeling out the growing swell with his naked lower body – gentle riding motions of his hips. He's good at concealing exactly how good it already feels. Fingers curl down into the open zipper to free King a bit more. 

“It's just that I have something for you first,” his laughter borders on the angelic, cheeks stained pink at the feel of hands pushing down on the small of his back.

“That's what I've been smelling? It's really fuckin' strong.”  
Mikoto sniffs and nips from the exposed part of his vassal's chest up to his ear. He changes route only to find Totsuka's nipple through threadbare fabric, rubbing with tongue and grazing teeth over the hidden, pinkening bud 'til Totsuka pushes down harder on his shoulders. He needs to maintain just enough control.

He brushes a thumb over King's lips to make them quit.  
“Mhm. But you have to guess what it is. Or I'll have to keep the whole thing for myself.”

Unfinished with being predictable, Mikoto ruts up against him in answer.  
He can't even tell the difference between a mont blanc and a shortcake or any of the sweets Totsuka likes to spoil him with anyway.  
So rather than losing...

“What's gonna' keep me from just taking what I want?”  
Mikoto handles him rougher by the hips once it's clear he's being teased into something.

“If you won't cooperate then we'll have to come up with a different game.”

Totsuka leans in deep enough for chests to rub– thighs burning at every up-and-down brush of Mikoto's hands becoming more like hungry squeezes all the way up under the cardigan's hem.

“Unless senpai's already grown out of playing with me.”

King takes the bait the second Totsuka offers his mouth.  
He's got to kiss him just the way he likes, so that he's blind to everything else on earth, with extra attention to Mikoto's sensitive upper palate. Playing little come-hither motions there with the tip of his tongue before allowing it to be taken...

– just long enough to slip the tie down from his neck, pull it around and capture King's eyes underneath.

Grunt.  
First off Mikoto doesn't seem pleased with being lured into a makeshift blindfold, but it's amusing to watch him give in out of sheer laziness. The fierce Red King, defeated by a strip of fabric.  
It could be the way Totsuka's fingers feel so capable binding the dark tie around, toying with the ends, making a tight, perfect knot in the thick of red hair and the scent of the skin around his collarbone. Sweet like whatever he's hiding.

“ 's kinda' out've character” a grin slides across Mikoto's lips once they're released, “don't think your middle school version would've thought to tie me up.”

“Might be you weren't paying attention,”  
Totsuka hums, dismounting to swipe the little white box from its hiding place under the bed. He tries his best to stifle a laugh.  
“But I won't have to tie the rest of you up. You're going to keep it on because I like you ~ so much. And you like me.”

Totsuka sounds so immature but god damn. That babying voice strokes him right where it counts. With his sense of sight restricted Mikoto can already feel the others heighten, responding to the pressure and aura of the body that sustains him returning.

“No one has to know so we won't get in trouble. Promise... 'cause it's not good for senpai to be so tense. And when it's just us... I think you want me to make you feel good,”  
Totsuka settles in between Mikoto's legs. Hands slip under loosened fabric at the waistline so he can grope down his present's hips and ass while he unwraps, returning the treatment from earlier.

“So good you'll sleep for days, hm?”

By the time those dark wash jeans slip all the way down – Mikoto is spineless, careless in the way he helps them off, putting in just enough effort to lift his hips –  
Totsuka's mouth is already watering. Heavily.  
You're so lazy....  
Full exposure finds King all attentive for him, and swollen with need. Close enough to Totsuka's cheek to feel its heat; he loves touching it, sucking it, riding it, like this is instinct hardwired into him and only ever for King's.  
It's almost enough to make Totsuka forget about the innocent little white box sitting at his side. With a tug at one end the red ribbon around it comes loose. The cake inside is a small slice, as rich as it is plainly decorated.

Totsuka delves three fingers in to disturb its light pink surface. At least he tries to be elegant about it. White whipped topping from around the edges mixes in too and warms between them in preparation. The mixture makes the light pink even lighter and the texture even smoother.

Oops, Totsuka tries to mouth silently to himself when a good half of it spills down across the front of his sweater. But the sound escapes and makes King wary of what he's doing. Try again – this time with less of a handful on the first dip.

Suddenly the scent is unmistakable. Mikoto forces himself up with both elbows but the lilt in Totsuka's voice soothes him too deep to the core to object.

“You like strawberry, don't you?”  
He cradles King's throbbing length in the same palm and fondles softly. Tests him on the unfamiliar texture before going all the way. No complaints yet.

“So do I.”

Mikoto's face nuzzles to the side, contorts into the pillow – feeling Totsuka stroke and coat him from base to rosy tip with strawberry icing. Slender fingers curl around in rhythmic upward squeezes; the icing in between them makes for the most indecent squelching noises. He lays it on thick so it will last. From one hand to two at once, every pulsing inch gets covered with creamy attention. Fingertips press into the places that make Mikoto's chest rise quick and tighten up. 

The scent is everywhere and the texture's kind of disturbing but it's perfectly smooth and his vassal's touch superheats his blood and stabilizes him all at once. No one else on earth can do this to him. He lets Totsuka know with a growly, pleasured exhale. The blindfold keeps him relaxed through the flood of stimulation.

“If you let me finish I'll let you have a taste.”

And so the Red King concedes to laying back into his throne of pillows, eyes bound shut, thighs spread just enough, looking more or less at the mercy of his vassal.

Totsuka makes such a mess taking Mikoto into his mouth, trying his best to feel inexperienced. He offers only light touches of his lips – getting them all sticky with icing before pulling back – with timid kisses along the sides of the shaft, hesitation before taking the head between them just barely. No frustrating detail spared. He lets the tip press inside his cheek, mouth loose, taking his precious time before petting at the rigid warmth with his tongue. Every sound Mikoto feels against his own sensitive skin is too creamy to be natural. And very good.

It's just not tight enough. Totsuka's shy whimpers and suckling noises start to sound more like invitations.

This is too much. Mikoto feels around below to stroke under Totsuka's chin, cupping it so fingers curl to touch his coated lips. With a squeeze he makes them tighter around him until they're just the right shape. Touching close enough lets him feel his vassal's tongue work at his cock in between. And all that dripping icing.  
Like an injection up the spine, relief shoots through him once Totsuka starts to move under his hand, lets himself be 'retaught' until he can do it on his own.

Mikoto swallows down something like a groan. The combination of saliva and icing makes for the most gratifying friction, so potentially gross he would have never agreed to this beforehand.

“Better?”  
Totsuka finds talking with his mouth full doesn't work so well. Three coated fingertips rub up under the head of Mikoto's cock; he uses the pressure of his tongue to the other side to swirl in half circles at the same time. Working into the slit causes his body react, adding warm precum to the mixture.  
Petal-soft lips offer their reward by taking in more. Mikoto strains into him, teeth bared at being sucked a little harder. The tie still restricts his sight. But his hands are free to do as they please. It can't hurt to peek.

Unfortunately he finds a pair of honeyed-brown eyes fixed up at him from below. Cheating was worth it. Around the brat's lips, his cheeks, the tips of his hair are all marked with creamy light pink... pretty mouth wrapped around all he can manage to take. All the best dreams couldn't compare to this.

“Uh-uh, put it back,” Totsuka scolds after pulling King out of his wet, sweet mouth, denying any kind of contact until Mikoto obeys.

A simple exercise in domestication.  
Totsuka licks away excess icing from one corner of his mouth. He thinks he's winning.

Until King grabs a handful of blond hair from the side, tangling fingers in, blind and hungry for what he's been given a sample of.  
Mikoto pushes up onto his knees. He cups his vassal's chin.

“Think you're holding this down, huh – tell me what you want.”

He makes sure to sound commanding, more like the king he's supposed to be. But his circuits nearly fry once Totsuka returns to that schoolboy voice:

“Get me all dirty... use me.”

“You're gonna' lose your reputation, lion tamer,” the Red King's trying to keep it together, though his voice is smug settling at the deepest part of its register. One hand keeps tangled in Totsuka's hair. He's got to banish the image of hazy eyes fluttering up at him; they're still tying his insides in knots.

“Please,” Totsuka breathes his permission over the slick arousal in his palm before it's shoved back in.

He must love the taste, swallowing down all the icing his tongue can lap up then making greedy reaches for more. Even when Mikoto's tip bumps the back of his throat the gasps that spill out don't phase his pacing. It's all good enough to make the Red King's knees tremble, enough to settle him back down into the pillows.

Turns out some reputations are infallible.

Totsuka's hands roam to worship up and down his King's body, leaving evidence of sticky sweetness everywhere they touch. The curve of Mikoto's balls massages gently in his palm and once marked with pink he's eager to feel what they taste like iced. He rubs with just lips first, again, and hums at the pleasing fullness in his mouth. Digs fingertips into King's firm thighs; lets his tongue slide all the way under then back to the base of the shaft until he finally gets a quiet, broken groan from above out of the deal.

Even blind Mikoto knows the effortless little way Totsuka's hips tend to move when he's giving head. It makes him ache for a different position entirely. But here he can't even move on his own free will.  
The heat of Totsuka's breath through the friction, over thickened, sugary saliva Mikoto can feel dripping from every throbbing part of him edges him all at once.

Mikoto lets up the grasp on his hair, giving him freedom to pull back if he wants, and he does. With impeccable timing Totsuka moves up to straddle his King, to press his solid, dripping cock between his thighs. Lifts the cardigan's hem to offer the touch of his own arousal. Mikoto doesn't need to imagine the motions of his hips anymore; he feels them make his vassal's desire kiss and rub into his – getting very, very dirty with what's left of light pink – getting tighter once both their hands wrap around each other.

It doesn't require much more stroking together before their breathing patterns match in labored reaches for air. Constricted in the slick, hot feel of each other. King pulls him closer in, carnal scents mating with the heavenly sweet in the air.

When they finish together all Mikoto can taste is strawberry. His vassal's lips smear it all over his own, across his tongue and deeper into his mouth. Like drowning in it.  
They can only choke out each others' names after breaking the surface again.  
So ungraceful in the coming down they might as well both be high school kids pawing awkward at each other. Holding on for a while.

The Red King can never get used to feeling so needy,  
wanting for nothing but Totsuka's distinct taste under everything, so he licks away traces of creamy light pink left at the corner of his mouth, up to his cheeks, between elegant fingers. Until it's all just Totsuka's skin he's kissing instead of icing.  
Mikoto's insistence on cleaning him up this way was – for once – unexpected and made his vassal blossom with laughter and return the favor.

 

\----------

 

Totsuka whines, pulls on his shirt and presses a hard, impatient kiss against his neck,  
“Let's go shower.” 

“Slow down, brat,” Mikoto covers his eyes with a forearm, “ 'm delicate right now.”

“You aren't,” he teases back. “You're a big tough lazy King that likes to call everything gross. So come shower with me.”

“Oi, what was that about sleeping for days? Or you just feeding me lines?”

“I would never.”  
He supposes he'll let King have a few moments of rest.

“This is way too messy,” Totsuka touches fingertips to lips, assessing how well they'd ruined the front of Mikoto's school cardigan between them. Several more buttons had popped off and rolled to wherever. He didn't want to think about the sheets.  
“Maybe not one of my better ideas.”

“Better than a few I could name off,” Mikoto murmurs on a huff. He's still terribly cute settled back half naked, cheeks tinged with a bit of pink at last.

“Oh~ so you were into that. I guessed right then. About some things never changing.”  
Totsuka adds a few things to the list in his head for future reference.

Mikoto swats at the sleeve dangling into his face as Totsuka wriggles out of his old sweater. It's done enough to keep him from his nap. 

The Red King cracks a simmering grin,  
“Swear to god I'm gonna' hide that thing somewhere you can't find it.” 

“No!” Totsuka's cry gets muffled in the fabric stuck over his head.

“Or I could just -”

“No.”

“- burn it.”


End file.
